


I'm Not Broken

by 10thwhovian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8600089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10thwhovian/pseuds/10thwhovian
Summary: In 1991, a single Hogwarts acceptance letter sat on Minerva McGonagall's desk with no address. Harry Potter, Location Unknown. Five years later, he is finally found. But he's not what the world had hoped for.
Eventual SS/HP, D/s relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters, much as I wish I did.
> 
> Warnings: This is a plot bunny that has been bouncing around in my head for a while. It is not a nice fic, especially at the beginning. Trigger warnings for rape, severe emotional distress, underage relationships... This will eventually be a SS/HP fic, so there will be slash, and there will be D/s relationships. Anyways, you've been warned.

Severus Snape had just sat down in front of his fireplace at Spinner's End, looking forward to a glass of Firewhiskey and a good book. It was the middle of July, the summer holiday was half gone, but this was the first moment he'd had to appreciate some peace and quiet. Between Death Eater meetings, raids, Order meetings, and brewing for both sides, his summer had been far from relaxing. And he didn't expect the rest of the summer to be any better.

He settled into his wingback chair with a sigh, cracking open his book. But before he'd finished the first page, a silver phoenix Patronus burst into the room, hovering in front of him.

"Severus!" The phoenix called in Dumbledore's voice. "We need you in the hospital wing. We've found him!"

Message delivered, the Patronus faded into mist. Severus stared, frozen in disbelief. They'd found him? After five years of searching, they'd found him?

Realising he was still gaping at the empty air where the phoenix had been, Severus leapt to his feet, summoning his emergency potions kit. Poppy kept the hospital wing well stocked, but it didn't hurt to be prepared. Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, he threw it into his fireplace, calling out, "Hogwarts, Hospital Wing!" and stepping through.

There was a mass of people, Order members from the looks of it, milling around the front room. He could hear Poppy barking orders and had to snap out a few unpleasantries himself before the crowd parted to let him through. He spotted Dumbledore standing by a bed at the back of the wing, but everything else was obscured by a curtain.

Dumbledore glanced away from the bed as Severus approached, worry plain on his face. "Severus, good, Poppy says there's a curse, a very dark spell. We haven't been able to identify it…" His voice trailed off as his eyes slid back to the bed. Severus steeled himself as he took another step forward, reaching out a hand and pulling the curtain back.

The boy was obviously unconscious, lying still as death in the centre of the hospital bed. His pale skin contrasted harshly with the jet black hair that fanned across the pillow. He was covered in scrapes, bruises, and lacerations, and Poppy was hovering over him with salves and dittany. The once white sheets were stained with blood, too much blood. But his eyes were quickly drawn to the ugly blackened wound on the boy's chest, just below his right collarbone. He could feel the dark magic seeping off of him, like a taint in the very air. Severus grimaced, stepping quickly to the bedside.

"How long?" He asked, tracing his wand in a complicated pattern above the boy's chest.

"Mundungus found him less than an hour ago, but we don't know how long ago he was attacked," Poppy replied.

Severus gave a quick nod and continued to work, pulling the magic out of the wound. A black tar-like substance began to seep out, rolling down his side to pool on the sheets. Slowly, the black began to turn red, flowing more freely.

"Blood replenishers?" Severus asked, eyes never leaving his work.

"I've given him two already."

"He'll need another when I'm done, and every three hours for the next two days." Blood had begun to poor out of the now visible laceration, but Severus continued to draw it out until, finally, the last of the black stains were gone. Severus lowered his wand as Poppy spelled the blood replenisher into the boy's system. He ran a final scan, making sure he hadn't missed any traces of the curse, and let out a small sigh when the boy's blood came back clean. He nodded to Poppy, and she closed the now clean gash on his chest. It would leave a scar. A quick glance down the boy's body made Severus cringe. Not his first scar, perhaps not even his worst.

With that thought, Severus reached a hand up to brush the sweat soaked hair off the boy's forehead. No, definitely not his first scar. Because there it was, the unmistakable lightning bolt, the scar left by the failed killing curse.

Severus stepped away from the bed, leaving Poppy to finish her work. His mind was rolling with questions, and he would have answers. Five years. Five years since Minerva found Potter’s Hogwarts letter sitting on her desk, ‘location unknown’ written clearly in green ink. Five years since Dumbledore had questioned those idiot Muggle relatives, only to learn that they had dropped Potter off at an orphanage the day they’d found him on their doorstep. Well, the orphanage had since closed, the records lost and Potter’s location along with them.

“Well?” Dumbledore’s concerned question pulled Severus from his thoughts.

Severus walked around the bed, pulling the curtain closed behind him. “The curse is gone,” he said. “He’s lucky. He’ll be weak for at least a week, possibly longer, but I think I was able to prevent any lasting damage. If it had progressed much further, the damage would have been much greater.”

“Good, good. Thank you, my boy.”

“What happened, Albus?” Severus asked. After years of searching, he needed to know. “Where was he found? Who cursed him? Where has he been all these years?”

Dumbledore sighed. “Can your questions wait a few minutes, Severus? I’m afraid I don’t have many answers, myself, and I’d rather not have to repeat what little I do know. I’ll be calling an Order meeting as soon as Poppy is finished. It seems that the entire Order is here already, so you won’t have long to wait.”

As Severus nodded his acceptance, Poppy stepped out from behind the curtain.

“He’s stable,” she said. “I’ve patched him up, taken care of all of the surface wounds, repaired the broken bones… I gave him some dreamless sleep, so he should stay unconscious for at least another twelve hours. But Albus, there’s something else…” She trailed off, glancing at Severus, but Dumbledore merely waved for her to continue.

“He’s been… raped. Repeatedly.” Even Severus couldn’t hold back his hiss of revulsion as Poppy continued. “I was able to heal the physical damage but…” Her voice cracked, tears welling in her eyes.

Dumbledore reached a hand out to grip Poppy’s shoulder. “There, there dear. He’ll be all right. We’ll be here for him.” He handed her a handkerchief and she dabbed at her red-rimmed eyes. “Why don’t we keep this between us for now, hm? I’m sure Harry wouldn’t want the whole Order knowing everything he’s been through.”

Poppy nodded her assent while Severus shoved down the bile that was threatening to climb up his throat. Raped. Hadn’t the boy been through enough? He had hated the elder Potter, but the younger Potter, Harry, Lily’s son; he didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this.

Severus took a deep breath, forcing his thoughts to calm. “Albus, I think you should call that meeting now, before you have the whole Order swarming the boy’s hospital bed.” A glance toward the waiting members showed a sea of restless, worried faces.

Albus followed his gaze with another sigh. “Poppy, could you remain here and keep an eye on Harry? I’ll clear everyone else from the room for a while. When do you think he would be awake for a visitor or two? Perhaps his godfather? Or one of the Weasley’s if you think he would respond better to someone his own age?”

“Give the boy a few days, Albus. I’ll be able to tell you more when he wakes up. Tell them they will have to wait until this weekend at the earliest. That’s only three days away; I imagine they can give the poor child that long to heal.”

“Of course, Poppy. We’ll see how he feels when he wakes up.” With that, Albus turned and walked through the crowd to the hospital wing doors, beckoning the others to follow. Severus waited until the last person, the mutt of course, had left the room before following. They made the journey to the headmaster’s office in silence, taking their seats without any of the usual prattle.

“I'm sure you all have questions,” the headmaster said once they were all seated. “I'm not sure how many of those questions I will be able to answer, but I’ll do my best. First, the facts. Mundungus, care to tell your part?“

“Not much ter tell. I were dahn Knockturn, heard sumfink dahn one of the side allies. Went ter investigate, make sure no one were 'urt yer know.”

“More like turn out their pockets I'd wager,” Severus muttered, receiving a glare from the thief.

“As I were sayin', I went ter see if evry’one were awright, right, and I found 'im. Didn't know 'oo 'e were o'course, but 'e were 'urt bad, and then I seen his scar, and I 'ad this real sick feelin'. So I brought 'im ter Poppy, and she called yer, and 'ere we are.”

“Where exactly in Knockturn was he found?” Severus asked.

“Club district, dahn by Dragon’s Breaff.”

“Then whoever attacked him wanted him to be found,” Severus said, “though I doubt they expected him to be found alive. That district has a lot of traffic later in the night, but the curse they left him with would have killed him long before most of those clubs opened.”

“A message, perhaps?” Asked Dumbledore.

“Perhaps, but for whom? We have to consider that this attack has more to do with where the boy has been for the past fourteen years, and less to do with him being Harry Potter.”

“Honestly, does it matter?” Molly Weasley’s exasperated voice broke in. “The poor dear has been beaten to within an inch of his life, and who knows what else he’s been through. What’s important is that he’s back with us now, that we can help him heal, show him how loved he is.”

Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes. Most people would need a mind healer and years of therapy, but surely the great Harry Potter would be fine with the power of  _ love _ …

“This conversation is pointless,” he growled. “We just don’t have enough information. I say we wait for the boy to wake up, heal. See what kind of mental state he’s in.”

“There’s plenty we can do before he wakes up!” Tonks exclaimed. “We can take a group of Aurors down, show his picture around, see if we can find witnesses, someone that knew him-”

“Oh, of course, why didn’t I think of that,” Severus snapped dryly. “Simply task an Auror force to investigate an unreported crime, and in the process alert the Dark Lord that Potter has been found. And give him a way to recognise the boy while we’re at it.” Tonks blushed, seeming to sink into her chair. “I have brewing that needs completed. If there’s nothing else…”

“No, of course, Severus,” Dumbledore replied as Severus got to his feet. “I’ll alert you if we have anything new.”

Severus gave the headmaster a curt nod and he left the room. He headed down the stairs, intending to Floo back to Spinner’s End from his quarters. But instead, he found himself walking back into the hospital wing, staring down at that mystery of a boy.

“Severus? What are you doing back here?”

As he turned to address Poppy, a glint of silver on the bedside table caught his eye. He paused, reaching out a hand to pick up the band of black silk with the round silver pendant. The name Kaleb was engraved in the metal, but it was otherwise a very plain piece. Such a small thing, yet the implications…

“Was this found on the boy?” He asked Poppy, his thumb tracing the soft slip of silk.

“Well, yes, it was in his hand. Why?”

“It’s nothing, just curious,” he replied. “I’ll leave you to your patient.”

Severus headed to the hospital Floo, sliding the collar into his robe pocket. Perhaps there were questioned that could be answered before the boy awoke. But Severus was no longer sure he wanted those answers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The idea may be mine, but the characters are not.

Severus stepped out of his fireplace and headed straight for his bedroom. He quickly changed into a set of Muggle attire; black jeans, long-sleeved black shirt with a silver design on the left side, black leather belt and boots. He tied his hair back, checked that his wand was properly hidden in his wrist holster, transferred the silk collar from his robes pocket to his jeans, and apparated to an alley in Muggle London.

He slipped onto the street unnoticed, walking for several blocks before stopping in front of a small storefront. The sign in the window read “Atra Rosa”, the black rose, blood red letters painted across the image of its namesake. Severus stepped through the door and paused to take in the smell of leather and rubber. He hadn't realised how much he would miss that scent…

He took a moment to look around the shop, but not much had changed. Racks of corsets, leathers, outfits and bodysuits were scattered across the floor. Heels, boots, and other footwear were displayed on the walls toward the front of the shop. Floggers, canes, and paddles were on the wall toward the back. There was a section for cuffs, ropes, and other restraints, a display of collars and leashes, and a glass case with plugs, rings, and other toys. There was a small section of books and videos, and an album by the counter with pictures of various pieces of furniture that could be ordered and installed.

The middle-aged man sitting behind the counter had looked up when Severus had entered, and was now eyeing him uncertainly. As Severus attempted to meet his eyes, the man - Jefferson, his memory supplied - immediately dropped his gaze. Interesting. “I'm looking for Damian.”

“Back room, sir,” came the gruff response. Severus stared at Jefferson for a long moment; he didn't remember the man being so easily intimidated. But it was of no consequence, so with a quick nod, he turned and walked through the curtained entrance, feeling the muggle repulsion and notice-me-not charms wash over him.

The back room looked much like the front, except with the addition of a line of potions, and the fact that most of the items on display were charmed in some way. It was also, thankfully, just as vacant. He spotted Damian easily; his neon blue hair was hard to miss. As he approached, Damian looked up from his paperwork, and quickly jumped to his feet. Severus froze. His instinct was to scan the room for the obvious threat, but Severus quickly realized that to Damian,  _ he _ was the threat… He just couldn’t imagine why. Severus slowly raised his hands in a show of placation as he spoke.

“Damian, I just want to talk.”

“I don’t want any trouble,” Damian replied quickly, eyes darting to the door.

Severus sighed, crossing his arms. “Merlin, Damian, what is your problem? I just need some information. What kind of trouble are you expecting?”

Damian seemed to take in the confused and mildly annoyed look on Severus’ face, and seemed to relax slightly. “I haven’t seen you in three years, Severus. Not since…”

“Not since before the Dark Lord returned, I know. I thought my reasons would be clear enough.”

“Yeah, pretty clear. Can’t be caught sleeping with the Muggles when you’re playing lapdog to a blood purist,” Damian practically growled. “You dropped Nate with his sister, no explanation… The boy was a wreck for a month trying to figure out what he’d done wrong.”

The accusatory tone made Severus cringe. “Better for the boy to be disappointed than dead, Damian.”

Damian stared at him as if debating about the truth of Severus’ words. Then he nodded slowly and sat back down. “Ok, alright. I never wanted to believe the worst of you, but I've heard… things… And in this day and age, you just never know who to trust.” Damian conjured a chair and motioned for Severus to sit. “You said you needed information. What do you need to know?”

Severus pulled the collar from his pocket as he sat down, laying it in front of Damian. He watched as Damian tensed again, back going rigid, eyes wide and guarded. He stared at Severus for a long moment, then sighed and reached a hand out to the black silk. “You found him, then?” he finally asked. Severus merely nodded in response, waiting for the man to continue. “He was a good kid,” Damian continued, staring at the collar in his hand.

“Is,” Severus interjected.

“What?”

“He  _ is _ a good kid. He’s alive.”

Damian’s head snapped up. “Alive? You have him? Is he safe?”

“Yes, Damian,” Severus replied, trying to keep the annoyance from his voice. “Why exactly would I need answers about a corpse?”

“Right, sorry, ok, Merlin, I thought for sure the kid was dead.” Damian took another look at the collar, then continued. “His name is Kaleb, as I’m sure you could tell from his collar. He was one of Mac’s boys. He’s been with Mac for just over a year I think. Muggle, eighteen years old or so, no family that I’ve heard tell of. Mac found him in a Muggle dungeon, never said which one, but the boy was unattached and living rough. He seemed pretty accepting of magic. Unlike you, Mac preferred his subs to know about our world, Statute of Secrecy be damned. Though after what happened, Kaleb will probably want to disappear into the Muggle world and never hear the word ‘magic’ again.”

“What happened?” Severus prompted.

“It was just over a week ago. Mac had taken Kaleb out to one of the clubs on our side. Nothing unusual. He frequented clubs in both the Muggle and magical worlds. But that night… A group of  _ his  _ followers showed up. I'm not sure if they were looking for Mac, or if it was just bad luck. Anyways, from what I hear, words were exchanged, a fight broke out, and it all went sideways. Even four against one, Mac should have been fine. But a stray spell hit Kaleb, and then Mac went down. Dead. Then one of the… One of  _ them _ grabbed Kaleb and they were all gone.”

Severus took some time to digest everything Damian had said. Most of what he knew about Potter, Kaleb, was wrong. The boy was obviously a wizard, not a Muggle, and he wouldn't even turn sixteen until the end of the month. But the rest seemed pretty straight forward. Obviously the Death Eaters that had taken Potter didn't know who he was, else they would have taken him straight to the Dark Lord.

“What can you tell me about Mac?” he asked. “Why would the Dark Lord be interested in him?” And why would four against one be even odds for the man, Severus wondered.

“Ah, Mac, short for MacDonigan. Douglas MacDonigan.”

“The dueler?”

“One and the same. He was a good man. Powerful, but quiet. Liked to keep to himself. He stayed neutral in the first war, thought he could do the same this time around.”

“What kind of a Dom was Mac? What kind of relationship did he have with Kaleb? You said they were together for over a year?”

“You know I don't usually share personal information, Severus,” Damian said slowly. “But if you think it will help Kaleb…”

“It will,” Severus replied quickly, and Damian nodded.

“Alright. Mac was a good Dom. Reminded me a bit of you to be honest. He preferred Muggles, but didn't mind the occasional wizard. Always liked them younger than my tastes, nothing illegal mind you, but I don't think I saw him with anyone over twenty-five. He liked his subs with a bit of a backbone, and he didn't share. Kaleb obviously had a rough start to life, though I never knew any of the details. He was the perfect submissive for Mac, the trust and respect he had for the man was clear to see. But if he didn’t know you…

“There was this incident in my shop a few months back. Mac had left Kaleb to look around the Muggle side while he was finishing up an order back here. Another Muggle came in and approached Kaleb, was getting a little too forceful with his attentions. Jefferson had called for me to come handle it, but by the time Mac and I made it to the front of the shop, Kaleb had a knife on the man’s thigh and a frankly terrifying grin on his face.” Damian chuckled at the memory before continuing.

“But one word from Mac and the knife had vanished and Kaleb was kneeling like nothing had happened. They worked well together. They were lifestyle, they both preferred it that way. I think Mac had taken a real liking to Kaleb. This past year was the longest I'd seen him with the same sub. Merlin, the boy is going to be crushed.”

They sat in silence for a time, Severus trying to put together some of the puzzle pieces of the boys past. Damian seemed to think highly of Mac, so it was entirely possible that Mac had believed the same lies about Potter that Damian had repeated to him. Despite being collared at such a young age, the boy still seemed to have a backbone. He couldn't imagine how Potter had found himself in this lifestyle, another question that would have to wait until the boy was awake, but at least he hadn’t been broken by it. And though his relationship with the Dom had been inappropriate, it seemed to have been consensual, unlike what Severus had feared.

“You’ll take care of him, won't you?” Damian asked quietly. “I mean, I know you're out of the lifestyle, I think I even understand why, but Kaleb has no one. I’d take him in but, well, I'm walking a fine line here. I've been staying mostly under the radar, but taking in a sub who’s supposed to be dead…”

“I'll do what I can,” Severus reassured the man. Though he wouldn't need to do much. Potter would have the rest of the Order fawning over him. He would be fine. Severus would convince Dumbledore to bring in a mind healer, help the boy through the trauma of the attack. He would have the support of the Order, and that mutt of a godfather. He would probably become friends with the Weasley boy, especially with Molly mothering him. Yes, he would be fine.

With that thought, Severus stood and thanked Damian for his help. He’d learned what he needed to know, and Damian knew he wasn’t fond of idle chatter. Damian handed him back the collar, “In case Kaleb wants it,” and Severus apparated back to Spinner’s End.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be some things that will look like bashing in this chapter, and in the future. I don’t really do character bashing, but I strongly believe in grey characters, and human characters. So before someone freaks out, I just wanted to clarify that this is not an evil!Dumbledore fic or anything like that. Ok? Good.

The next ten days passed fairly quietly for Severus. He had been summoned by the Dark Lord only once, to give an update on the Order’s movements and exchange his completed potions with a new list to brew. He had a meeting with Dumbledore that afternoon for the same purpose. It was occasionally disheartening how similar his roles were for both sides of the war…

He had done his best to push thoughts of the Potter boy to the back of his mind. But though his meeting with Damian had provided a few insights, it had brought as many questions. And while he tried to convince himself that the child's life was not his concern, that the boy had other people who were much better equipped to  care for him, he still couldn't help wondering about the boy’s condition. Had Albus found a decent mind healer? How much did the boy know about magic? And, of course, where had he been for so many years?

As the time for his meeting at Hogwarts approached, Severus found himself pacing in front of his Floo. Finally, with a growl of frustration, he grabbed a handful of Floo powder, tossed it into the fire, and barked out “Hogwarts, Hospital Wing”. And nothing happened. It appeared the Floo was blocked from visitors, which made very little sense to Severus. Now even more determined to check on the boy, he grabbed another handful of Floo powder and Flooed to his quarters in the dungeon.

He made the long trek to the Hospital Wing, only to find the door locked and warded. He considered just heading to the Headmaster’s office, but his annoyance and curiosity won out, and he slowly began dismantling the wards. And as the door finally slid open, the need for secrecy became clear.

Potter was lying in the middle of the only hospital bed left in the room. He was asleep, but his limp limbs and open mouth told Severus that it was a drugged sleep, not a natural one. But while a drugged sleep could be explained away as a respite from nightmares, which the boy would surely have, it would not explain the restraints. This wrists and ankles were cuffed to the bed, and a wide strap lay over his midsection, fully restricting his movement.

Severus turned on his heel and stormed to the Headmaster’s office. He snapped the password, took the stairs two at a time, and threw open the door. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, staring at the fuming potion’s master in confusion.

“What in Salazar’s name have you done to the boy?” Severus spat before Dumbledore could so much as open his mouth.

A look of understanding dawned on Dumbledore’s face, followed by guilt and at least a little shame. “So you stopped to see Harry on your way here, I see. That Wing was warded for a reason, Severus.”

“Not warded well enough, obviously. I’m still waiting for answers Albus.” Severus replied with a pointed glare.

“Please sit down, my boy. There are things that you don’t understand-”

“I’m not going to sit down. And before you ask, I don’t want tea, and I don’t want a blasted lemon drop. What I want it to know why a traumatised fifteen year old boy is drugged and strapped to a bed in your Hospital Wing!”

“Enough!” Dumbledore stood abruptly and brought his hand down on his desk, the crack of his palm against the wood punctuating his shout. “I have had a difficult day as it is, and I will not allow you to judge my actions without knowing what led to them. Now sit down, rein in that temper of yours, and allow me to explain!”

Severus sat down. Dumbledore slowly settled himself into his own seat, his right hand reaching up to massage his temple. The room was silent for a long moment while Severus waited, impatiently, for Dumbledore to collect his thoughts.

“Harry woke up Thursday morning, as was expected. But, he didn’t appear to truly be awake. His eyes were open. If you set food in front of him, he would eat, he would use the facilities when he was led to them, but otherwise, it was like the boy was sleepwalking. He didn’t speak, he didn’t respond when spoken to, he didn’t even flinch when Poppy was running diagnostic scans. For three days, he ate and slept and not much else. Poppy said that there wasn’t anything wrong with him physically, so on Sunday, we allowed a few Order members to visit. Molly, Sirius, the youngest Mr Weasley, hoping that one of them would incite some sort of reaction. Sirius brought him pictures of his family, we all told him about the wizarding world, Ronald even brought him some Quidditch magazines, but still the boy sat there, completely blank.”

“And what exactly did you expect? For the boy to wake up, embrace you with open arms, and tell you his life story?” Severus scoffed. “What did the mind healer say?”

Dumbledore cringed. “We couldn't call for a mind healer, Severus. What would we tell them? They would have to inform the ministry that Harry had been found, and Voldemort has too many people there. He would know before the day was out.”

Severus stared at the headmaster in shock. “You can't keep him hidden from the Dark Lord forever. The boy needs help. He needs someone to talk to.”

“He has all of us…”

“Someone qualified,” Severus snapped. “Someone who understands what he’s been through. I doubt Mr Weasley fits that description.

“And this still doesn't explain,” Severus continued, “how the boy ended up chained to a bed.” It was taking every ounce of his control not to hex the old fool into next week.

“That was my fault,” Dumbledore said, guilt written clearly across his face. “He was so closed down. And I didn't expect a boy with no magical training to know Occlumency…”

“You use Legilimency on the boy!? What. Were. You. THINKING??”

“I was thinking that we needed answers he wasn't willing to give us. I was thinking that I couldn't help him without knowing what was going on inside his head. I was thinking that an untrained fifteen year old boy wouldn't notice if I brushed against his mind. I didn't know what else to do!”

Severus took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So let me see if I have this correct,” he said as calmly as he could manage. “You took a boy who had just been through a horrible ordeal, denied him the help of a skilled mind healer, bombarded him with strangers and new information that he was not ready to deal with, then invaded his mind because you couldn't figure out what was wrong with him?”

Dumbledore slumped farther into his chair with a sigh. “That is a very harsh way to word it, my boy.”

“And it still doesn't explain why Potter is restrained,” Severus said.

“As I said, Harry knows Occlumency. He is actually a fairly powerful Occlumens, though he doesn’t have any finesse. When he felt me touch his mind, he lashed out. Rather quickly, and very violently. He forced me out of his mind, stole Poppy’s wand, and proceeded to destroy the hospital wing. I was forced to stun him.” Dumbledore grimaced. “Now, every time he wakes, he starts screaming profanities and lashing out in any way he can. We had to restrain him, for his safety as well as our own.”

Severus nodded slowly, taking some time to think before asking his next questions. Albus had failed the boy. The Order had no idea how to handle him. And it was entirely possible that he would fail just as spectacularly. But perhaps… “When did all of this happen, what is Poppy drugging him with and when was his last dose?”

“Yesterday morning, one of the sedatives, but you would have to ask Poppy which and when,” Dumbledore said slowly.

Severus rose and gave a curt nod. He pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket and placed it on Dumbledore’s desk. “These are the potions ingredients that will need to be restocked. I will leave the potions you requested with Poppy, and talk to her about what else she needs me to brew. There is nothing to report from the Dark Lord. Now if you’ll excuse me, I'm going to see if I can clean up your mess.”

The original purpose of this meeting concluded, Severus swept out of the headmaster’s office without waiting for a reply. He strode back to the hospital wing, stopping outside the doors to calm his anger, and admittedly, calm his nerves. This could work, but it could also go very wrong. But he couldn’t sit back and do nothing. With that thought, Severus pushed open the doors and knocked on Poppy’s office. It didn’t take long to get the boy’s records. He easily found the counter to the sedative Potter had been given, as well as grabbing healing salve. It took only slightly longer to convince Poppy to leave him alone with the boy. And it took no time at all to replace the wards around the room, adding a silencing charm and a few extra locks to the door.

Once he was sure that he wouldn’t be disturbed, Severus approached the boy’s bed. He spelled the counter potion into Potter’s stomach, and summoned a chair while the boy slowly woke up. And just as Dumbledore had said, the boy opened his eyes and let loose a barrage of profanities. He struggled against the restraints, tried to buck himself off the bed, screamed, spat, cursed until he was red in the face. And through it all, Severus sat and watched the boy from his chair, just out of the boy’s reach, but easily within sight. After listening to almost fifteen minutes of the boy’s admittedly impressive vocabulary, Severus had seen what he’d needed to. The words might be harsh, but the eyes… The eyes held nothing but fear and desperation.

“Kaleb, enough.” Severus’ voice was soft but firm. The boy cut off mid-curse, eyes wide, chest heaving. Severus nodded, keeping the same soft tone. “Breathe. I won’t have you passing out because you hyperventilated.”

“You know my name,” Potter said softly, the panic slowly leaving his eyes. “How do you know my name?”

Severus reached into his robe pocket slowly and brought out the boy’s collar. He let it dangle between his fingers for a moment before reaching out to set it on the bedside table. “We need to have a conversation. I would prefer to do so without you lying flat on your back.” Severus held up the small jar of salve. “This is for the friction burns I’m sure you’ve given yourself. I am going to remove the restraints, and you will put the salve on. I will not tolerate your recent behaviour, is that clear?”

The boy nodded.

“I require a verbal response, Kaleb.”

“Yes, sir. It’s clear, sir.”

Severus allowed a small smile to turn up the corners of his mouth. “Good boy.” He considered simply vanishing the restraints, but the boy was being surprisingly calm now, and Severus didn't want to throw him into another panic by pulling out his wand. So instead, Severus stood and slowly walked to the bed. He chose a wrist cuff first, releasing the catch easily. The strap across his stomach came next, then both ankles, and finally the other wrist. As soon as the last restraint was released, Potter sat up, pulling his knees to his chest and rubbing his wrists. Severus walked back to his chair, watching the boy’s eyes dart to the door.

“The salve, Kaleb,” Severus said, holding out the jar. Potter pulled his eyes from his means of escape and hesitantly took the jar, sniffing the contents. A look of surprise flashed across his face, there and gone almost too quick to notice. Even Severus might have missed it if he hadn't been watching for it. The boy started to apply the salve as Severus sat back down. “You have questions,” Severus stated. “Ask them.”

This time, Potter didn't try to hide his surprise. “You’re going to answer my questions?”

“Did no one offer to answer your questions before now?”

“No, sir. They mostly talked at me, or asked me a bunch of questions. They kept calling me ‘Harry’, and they wanted to know where I’d been staying and if I knew about magic, things like that.” The boy gave him a calculating look. “But you’re offering to answer my questions. Why?”

Severus had to smirk. He could see the intelligence in the boy's bright green eyes, the stubbornness in the set of his brow. It was an expression Lily had worn often. “Because I want answers,” Severus answered honestly. “But to get answers, there will have to be trust between us. So I will answer your questions, and hopefully, in the future, you will be willing to answer some of mine. Ask.”

Potter nodded, thinking as he finished rubbing the salve into his ankles, the friction burns quickly fading. “Where did you get the salve?”

Severus fought to contain a chuckle. Such an innocently loaded question. “I made it. But that’s not what you really want to know, is it? I helped Damian perfect this salve several years ago, and it is sold exclusively at Atra Rosa. Yes, I know Damian.”

The boy nodded again, handing the jar back to Severus and settling back on the bed. “Why am I here instead of St Mungo’s?”

“Because it is safer here. The men who attacked you left you for dead. We didn't want them to know that they had failed, or risk them trying again.”

“Mac’s dead though, isn't he… Else he would be here too.” The boy's voice caught slightly at Mac’s name, but otherwise his voice was dry and emotionless.

“Yes, he is,” Severus replied.

“I want to go home, but I don't have a home to go to, do I?”

Severus thought about how to answer that for a long moment. “You have options. Some come with more risks than others, and all of them will require you to accept some unpleasant truths.”

“Unpleasant truths,” Potter repeated. “Like why everyone calls me ‘Harry’?”

“Yes.”

The boy thought for a long time. Eyes staring at his clasped hands, face entirely unreadable, still as stone, until Severus wondered if the boy was going to speak at all. Finally, Potter looked up, green eyes meeting black. “I want to know.”

“Then I will tell you. You were born Harry James Potter on July 31st, 1980…” Severus told Potter the facts, most of them at least. He told him about the first war, he told him about his parents’ deaths, the fall of the Dark Lord, and reluctantly, after much prodding, he told him about the prophecy. He told him about how Dumbledore left him with his Muggle relatives, and how they, in turn, had left him at the orphanage. He told him about the unaddressed acceptance letter and the frantic search that followed. He told him about the youngest Weasley’s death and the return of the Dark Lord. Many times Severus thought he should stop, worried he would overwhelm the boy, berating himself for doing exactly what he accused Dumbledore of not an hour earlier. But then Potter would ask a perceptive question, and Severus would continue.

Eventually, the boy ran out of questions, and Severus ran out of facts. Severus watched the boy as he took everything in, outwardly calm, face impassive.

“I suppose I’ll have to get used to being called Harry, won’t I?”

“Yes, I imagine you will.”

“I need some time. I need to think. But… Can you come back? Tomorrow?”

Severus nodded his consent before he realised what he’d agreed to. He sighed in resignation, knowing that he couldn’t refuse the boy. Severus stood to leave, then stopped himself at the foot of the boy’s bed. “I won’t be able to prevent the others from visiting you,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” came the dejected reply.

“I know you don’t have any reason to like or trust them, or even me. But I need you to try. Try not to shut them out. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir,” he said with a hint of determination.

“Good. I will see you tomorrow,” Severus said as he headed for the door. “And Kaleb? You might want to keep your collar hidden. They may not know what it is, but if they do, I don’t think they’ll be very understanding.”

Severus watched as Kaleb nodded his assent, then turned and walked out of the hospital wing. He dropped the wards once he was outside the door, and saw Poppy sitting in a conjured chair just down the corridor. She bolted upright when she saw Severus, obviously annoyed at being locked out of her domain for so long.

“What exactly was all of this about, Severus? You’ve been locked up with that boy for almost three hours! I wasn’t sure which of you to be more worried about. What were you thinking, warding the room so strongly? What happened with the boy?”

Severus held up a hand to cut off her tirade. “Potter is fine. I removed his restraints, and I do not want to see them used again. He is awake, and calm, though I imagine tired. I will be back to check on him tomorrow.”

Poppy gaped at Severus and he could see the questions building behind her eyes. Before she could collect her thoughts enough to start seeking answers, Severus was gone, striding quickly toward the dungeons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, yes I killed Ginny. I’m sorry, don’t hate me, but it only made logical sense. Harry wasn’t there to save her, but as far as I can tell, Malfoy would have still needed to get rid of the diary, and framing the Weasley’s would have been a politically intelligent manoeuvre, so that wouldn’t have changed. I’m trying really hard to account for the ripple effect that Harry’s absence would have had. Some of it probably isn’t relevant and thus won’t be mentioned, while other things will be mentioned/addressed in the future. Oh, and if anyone noticed the timeline inconsistencies with canon last chapter (how long the Dark Lord has been back) this is the reason.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings apply...

It was well into the evening when Severus stumbled through the Floo into his sitting room at Spinner’s End. He ripped the bone white mask off his face, letting it clatter to the floor. The pitch black robes were hurriedly pulled over his head, balled up and tossed into a corner. He’d worry about the blood stains later. 

He left a trail of black clothing on his way to the bathroom, boots kicked off, shirt thrown over a chair, trousers and socks left in the middle of the hall. Severus didn't care. He needed to shower, to scrub the blood from under his nails. But no amount of scrubbing would wash away his memories, the screams ringing over the cracks of spellfire, the acrid smell of burnt flesh and fresh blood. 

Tonight’s raid had been on a Muggle restaurant; the owner’s sister was a Muggle-born witch who worked in the Ministry, and the Dark Lord had decided to make an example of her. They’d hit in the middle of the dinner rush, and the restaurant was crowded, every table full. 

_ He apparated into the middle of the room, the crack of his apparition echoing as other masked and robed figures appeared. There were four people sitting at the table in front of him, a man, a woman, a boy that looked barely old enough to be a first year, and a girl even younger. The man was looking around the room in confusion, not yet afraid. Severus raised his wand, pointing it at the little girl, face emotionless behind his mask. A softly spoken spell, a flash of green, the girl collapsed and the woman jumped to her side. The boy fell next as the woman began to scream.  _

Severus fell against the wall, grabbing onto the bathroom door frame. He always killed the children first; he was one of the few who would offer them a quick death. It was the least he could do, and the most he could do. Some of the others liked to play with their victims…

_ A blonde woman bent over a table, naked breasts pressed into her half-eaten dinner, eyes fixed on the still warm corpse of the man she’d been eating with. A masked Death Eater, robes pulled up to his waist, grunting as he thrust into her, hard and fast. A wand placed in the small of her back, a groaned  _ Crucio _ , the woman screamed and flailed and the Death Eater cried out his release. A hand tangled in blonde hair, head pulled back, wand slashed across a pale throat. The masked man watched her blood spill as he laughed, thrusting a few more times before pulling out. Fluid dripped down her leg, mixing with her blood on the floor... _

Severus shook himself from the memory, flipping on the shower. He stepped under the still cold spray, but the shiver that ran over him had little to do with the temperature. The worst of it all was that their primary target hadn't even been there! Over fifty people dead, for nothing! 

_ A waitress convulsed in the middle of the room, a wordless shriek tearing itself from her raw throat. Fingers scrabbled at the floor, nails ripped off leaving bloody nubs behind.  _

_ “Where are they! Where are they!” Bellatrix’s voice screamed over the girl’s cries.  _

_ Her jeans were stained; she'd lost control of her bodily functions after the first minute under Bellatrix’s care. She flopped around like a landed fish, eyes rolled back until only the whites showed. With one last shudder, the girl went limp, scream cutting off and plunging the room into eerie silence.  _

Severus’ fist connected with the tile wall of the shower, and he felt something snap. He leant into the wall, the cool tile a sharp contrast to the now hot water. All of it had been for nothing, the owners had fled just days before. Someone was paying for the bad information, and Severus couldn't help but be glad it wasn't him. He washed slowly, trying not to watch the pink tinted water disappear down the drain. 

Severus stood under the shower until the water had turned cold again. When he stepped out, his mask was back in place, his mind calm, his emotions collected. He allowed himself these moments of weakness, but only moments. He couldn't afford to let his emotions control him. No pity for the dead, no guilt for that which was out of his control, no regret for the life he had chosen all those years ago. That was the only way he could survive. 

Severus was debating if he should attempt to sleep when a voice called from downstairs. He dressed quickly and headed for his sitting room, wondering what emergency he would have to deal with this time. When he walked into the room and saw Poppy’s head sticking out of his fire, his thoughts immediately turned to Potter. What could have possibly happened in the short time he’d been gone?

“Severus! Thank Merlin you’re home!” Poppy exclaimed when she caught sight of potions master. “I need you to come through. It’s Harry. He’s having some sort of nightmare, and, well, it’s hard to explain.”

A nightmare. They called him for a nightmare. “And why, exactly, are the boy’s nightmares my concern,” he sneered. “I have better thi-”

“Please just come through,” Poppy interrupted. “You’ll understand when you see him.” And then she cut off the connection, trusting that he would follow.

Severus was tempted to take himself to bed, let Poppy and the headmaster deal with the boy. But then he remembered the cuffs around the boy's wrists, the panic in his eyes. Leaving him was not an option. Severus flooed to the hospital wing, glad that the headmaster had had the sense to remove the ward on the floo.

From Poppy’s reaction, he expected to step into chaos. Instead, his entrance was met with silence; until, of course, a certain mutt turned and snarled at him.

“I don’t understand why he’s here,” Black snapped. “I’m Harry’s godfather. What makes you think Snivellus here will have any more luck than I did?”

Dumbledore stepped in, no doubt to soothe the dog’s hurt feelings, but Severus was no longer listening. His eyes were fixed on a golden dome in the far corner of the room, and the boy writhing inside it. His mouth was open in a scream, though no sound could be heard. He fingers were clawing at his forehead, leaving deep gouges behind. His eyes were squeezed shut, and blood ran in rivulets down his face.

Severus didn’t stop to think. His legs carried him to the edge of the dome, a hand reaching out to test the magic. He could feel a mild current running over what felt like a shield charm, a silencing charm, and a ward all wrapped into one. It was an unusual piece of accidental magic. But that wasn’t important, not now at least. He pressed his hand into the shield and was surprised to find very little resistance. He heard a yell and a gasp behind him, but the voices were far away. He stepped forward and knelt down, placing himself fully inside the dome.

And all he could hear was the scream; hoarse, strangled, deafening, the boy was in agony. Severus grabbed Kaleb’s wrists, pulling his hands away from his face, pinning them one handed above the boy’s head. His legs thrashed, knee connecting with Severus’ side, and Severus threw his leg over the boy’s thighs, his free hand settling on Kaleb’s chest. The dome flashed, but he was more concerned with the boy’s continued screams, the heels kicking against the floor. Why wasn’t he waking up? Even if Poppy had drugged him again, a nightmare like this should have woken him up. And why had no one stopped the boy from injuring himself?

Suddenly, the screams cut off, the body beneath him went rigid, and green eyes snapped open, staring wildly around him. “Kaleb?” Severus said softly. Green eyes met black, and the tension in the boy’s muscles relaxed. His eyes closed slowly, a single tear ran down his cheek.

“I had a nightmare, didn’t I?” His voice was rough, throat raw. He hesitantly met Severus’ eyes again as Severus nodded.

“You injured yourself,” Severus stated. “Deep scratches on your forehead. I would like to heal you, and then I would like an explanation.”

Severus waited for the boy to nod his assent, then slowly let go of his wrists and reached for his wand. He was so focused on Kaleb, he didn’t see Sirius barreling toward him until the idiot had tackled him to the ground. Severus mentally berated himself for allowing the boy to distract him so completely as he felt the tip of Black’s wand dig into his neck. 

“What do you think you're doing  _ Snape _ ?” Sirius spat. “And why the  _ hell _ could you get through that shield when none of us could?”

“Sirius, please calm down,” Dumbledore’s voice called. “Harry is obviously frightened-”

“Of course the kid’s scared! This greasy git just assaulted him!”

Severus turned his head the best he could, seeking out Kaleb. Sure enough, the boy was huddled in the corner, wide eyes trying to watch everything at once. The scratches on his forehead were still dripping trails of blood down his face. 

Severus turned back to Black and sneered. “Your  _ godson _ is bleeding, you fool. Perhaps that should concern you more than your petty schoolboy issues.”

Black reeled back as if he’d been slapped. The idiot had actually forgotten Kaleb’s injuries. He spun toward the boy, wand raised, and Kaleb let out a startled squeak, pressing himself further into the corner. 

“Put your wand away, you halfwit!” Severus snapped as he climbed to his feet. “I swear, do none of you think? Albus, put a leash on your dog before he bites someone.” He watched with some satisfaction as Dumbledore ushered Sirius a few steps back, though the man kept his wand in his hand. Poppy started forward, but Severus put out a hand to stop her. “Give the boy a minute, Poppy.”

Severus turned back to Kaleb and waited as his breathing began to slow. “Look at me, Kaleb,” he said firmly, and the boy’s eyes snapped to his face.

“Who the hell is Kaleb?” He heard Black growl behind him, but Dumbledore shushed him before he could work himself into another fit.

“Up,” Severus commanded. The boy stood, legs a little unsteady, but obviously determined not to ask for help. “Get into bed, and I’ll fix your forehead.” Kaleb walked slowly to his bed, careful not to turn his back on the other three people in the room. Severus smirked, wondering if Black even realised how little his godson trusted him. Once Kaleb had crawled between his sheets, Severus approached the bed, waving Poppy back again. He pulled up the chair and sat, meeting Kaleb’s eyes. “Ready?” He asked as he raised his wand.

“Yes, sir,” came the quiet reply. 

Kaleb didn’t flinch when Severus whispered the spells to close the wounds and clean the blood off his face. Severus knew he should be concerned that the boy trusted him that much, but instead, he just felt resigned, and perhaps a little smug. Kaleb needed to trust someone, and while he might not be the best choice, he was certainly better than his wretched godfather.

“Tell me about the nightmares,” he said calmly.

“I haven’t had one in a long time,” Kaleb began. “Not since Mac taught me Occlumency.”

Severus nodded. Clearing your mind, being able to compartmentalise your thoughts, was an effective way to stave off nightmares. It was one of the reasons he’d decided to learn Occlumency himself.

“I told them I didn’t want Dreamless Sleep… But they didn’t listen.” Kaleb shot a glare over Severus’ shoulder at that, but Severus didn’t bother to see who he was glaring at. Dreamless Sleep should have stopped the nightmares entirely. He’d never known it not to work. The only disadvantage of that particular potion was its addictive properties, making it unsafe to use for extended periods of time. 

“Does Dreamless Sleep always make the nightmares worse?” He asked.

“Yes, sir. Almost always at least.”

Severus thought about this for a moment before asking his next question. “Do you know why we couldn’t wake you up?”

“No, but Mac could never wake me up from those nightmares either.”

“And the shield?”

“Shield?” Kaleb’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I take it that was not intentional.”

“No, sir,” he replied, shaking his head.

“Very well. Poppy,” Severus called over his shoulder, “when did you give him Dreamless Sleep?”

“Around 6pm last evening, but it was a low dose. It should be out of his system by now. Why?” She asked.

Severus ignored her question and turned back to Kaleb. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to get back to sleep, but you should try. I need to go speak with your godfather and the headmaster. Unless there is anything else you’d like to tell me?”

“No, sir.”

Severus stared at Kaleb for a few seconds. There was something else, something the boy was holding back. He doubted anyone else would have noticed the slight tightening around the boy’s eyes when he lied, but Severus had spent years learning to notice these things. But Kaleb wasn’t ready to share, and he had no choice but to accept the lie, for now. “Very well,” he said as he stood and began to walk away.

“Wait, sir?” Kaleb called, stopping Severus mid-stride.

Severus turned back to the bed, waiting as Kaleb fidgeted. “Yes?” He prompted.

“It’s just, well, you never told me your name…”


End file.
